Soundtracks for the times

And plans for 2024

This first Substack of the year is in two parts.

It’s my first winter in Britain for some time and it’s clearer to me than ever how we do midwinter on this island between the Atlantic and the North Sea. The festive season goes on for weeks, and I think it’s necessary here, both as a distraction from the gloom and to accommodate the lower energy levels linked to the lack of light. Body and spirit know what the mind tries to deny, succumbing to a sleepiness that can last until the first quickening of spring.

The latter part of this post reflects the recreational and reflective mood of the season and offers some suggestions from musicals as emotional resources for the times. Songs have always been important in dealing with difficulty – many traditional folk songs are beautiful responses to struggle and loss – and freedom movements actively use them to foster motivation and solidarity. These days, with so much going on, we badly need resources to bring latent feelings to the surface, to calm and uplift. Contrary to stereotype, musical theatre is not a light art form. Its songs and stories cover the range of human experience, sometimes capturing complex emotions that go unnamed in other forms of popular culture.

But first, you will find an indication of what to expect from this Substack in the coming year. According to signs and sources of all kinds, 2024 promises to be pivotal. By this I mean that it inaugurates a new phase, just as 2020 marked a turning point, in this stage of the Great Human Experiment. What kinds of people are we going to be? How are we, and our descendants, going to live in the time to come? The choices we make, as individuals, as a society and as a species over the next few years are likely to be far-reaching.

In the UK, as in the US, elections are due. So there will be an in-depth post on democracy, why what we’ve got isn’t it, how it is being dismantled and why, for the first time in my life, I almost certainly won’t be voting. (I’m leaving a sliver of possibility open for that independent candidate bursting with vision and integrity.) It’s clear beyond any shadow of a doubt that to vote for any of the mainstream parties in Britain will simply give them a mandate to accelerate the implementation of their agendas.

What can we do instead? We can, as many have been saying for some time, start to build the beginnings of an alternative society by disconnecting from the mainstream and meeting our needs in other ways. Reducing dependency by itself creates freedom in both practical and psychological ways: those who have done so will be in a better position to say No when more impositions are attempted.

But it’s not easy, and for those of us in the process, it’s important to give ourselves credit for how far we’ve already come. Conducting my own personal review, I’ve impressed by how completely I’ve broken a lifelong addiction to the BBC and no longer watch television or any mainstream broadcast media. I’m pleased I’ve stopped considering supermarkets as my main source of food, visiting the butcher, greengrocer and international stores instead. The change has opened up worlds: I’m discovering new food stuffs, am cooking from scratch and am on friendly terms with local shopkeepers.

The next priority is energy. In a country where it seems as if government, regulator and energy companies are working together to keep prices high, going off-grid looks to be the only real solution. A stagnant property market has meant I haven’t been able to move as planned and going off-grid is not possible in a flat so I’ll be experimenting with portable solar systems and sharing anything useful I learn about this and other forms of self-sufficiency here.

The above appeared on my screen while I was briefly on the Octopus website paying a bill. The technical means to control how we behave in our own homes is already in place, and organisations feel that they have the right to ‘nudge’ us into the desired behaviour. Imagine what life could become if this kind of thing were backed up by legislation.

I switched away from Octopus within the week.

One of my specific New Year’s resolutions is to write to both the Passport Office and DVLA about government plans to give the police access to our photos to facilitate their growing use of facial recognition. You can find more details here and here. This would bring an end to the principle of anonymity in public space and, as Big Brother Watch points out, effectively introduces digital ID by the back door.

Writing to my MP is arguably a more effective means of protest and still stands as the expression of a firm NO. But, given the results of my laborious experiment of writing individually to all 650 MPs in 2023, I feel the need to experiment with new forms of resistance and non-compliance. (What can we learn from the past struggles of the campesinos of south American and Indians under British rule? There’s a lot of potential material there.) The email I’ll write will be short, something like: ‘Please note that I do not consent to any such sharing of my data. My photo was provided to you for the stated purpose only and I will hold the Passport Office/DVLA responsible for any breach of privacy.’

I’m also resolved to Make Activism Fun – MAK! For example, when I transferred my funds out of the Halifax recently I wrote JUST TOO WOKE in the reference box. When I next pay my council tax, I might just put something like MEND POTHOLES or LTNS=OVERREACH.

The past few years have, for many of us, been a painful process of recognising that things are not as we thought and coming to terms with some difficult truths. This Substack has covered data grabs, the dangers of digital currency, the rise of public health authoritarianism, the social psychology underlying failing western democracies and the hijacking of environmentalism by corporations and supra-national bodies. While the emphasis now needs to be on moving beyond understanding to develop alternative ways of living, there’s a big subject I’ve been avoiding. This will be remedied in 2024.

The outstanding think-piece comes under the banner of transhumanism. That’s not, as some think, about a far-off potential dystopia with brains in vats and warring cyborgs. It’s about the direction in which the scientific materialism of our culture and our current use of technology is taking us, and what humanity could become if we allow vested interests to prevail. The subject covers everything that has, so far, made human life meaningful: family, friends, community and romance, our relationship to nature and the impulse to explore the world, food, the way we trade and transact, the work we do and how our societies are governed.

‘Transhumanism’ concerns the question of our times: what does it mean to be human? In an evolving universe, who do we want to become? There will be at least a couple of pieces addressing the subject head-on, probably forming the final Bafflement Essays.

These kinds of posts are research-intensive and very consumptive of personal energy, so I want to say a big thank you to paying subscribers; your contributions really are appreciated and help to keep me motivated. To all my subscribers, please share any material you think might be useful to others as widely as you can. I meet people all the time who haven’t heard of the WHO power grab and remain blissfully unaware of the huge operation in surveillance and data-sharing that is currently underway.

He’s still alive, you know

Okay, let’s dance.

Or sing. Or hum. Or just listen. The lyrics of musicals can be surprising. They can even say exactly what you were thinking before you knew you thought it.

My first choice goes back to my fourth birthday party when my grandmother carried a plastic record player into our North London house. With it came the first record I owned and could play at will: Chim Chim Cheree from Mary Poppins. The section about the rooftops of London recalls my historical and topographical roots – something that is always grounding, whatever happens to the place, or to us, subsequently.

But what about now? Are there songs in musicals that speak to these strange, particular times?

In January 2020, I sat in a West End theatre watching Wicked for the second time. I’d had a sense, seeing it in company the first time, that it was somehow significant and I’d gone back to sit in a good seat alone and give it my full attention. I was really enjoying the show, admiring how cleverly Stephen Schwarz played with conventional ideas about good and bad, conformity and difference when a sudden insight struck. ‘It’s about authoritarianism,’ said an inner voice. It was accompanied a strange sensation in my chest which in turn was followed by the thought: ‘I hope this isn’t a premonition’.

Since then, Wicked has become my go-to musical for the times, with the song Something Bad perfectly capturing the first signs of authoritarianism and the denial that prevents people from nipping it in the bud. (Hannah Arendt makes a similar point in a very different way.)

‘It couldn’t happen here … in Oz,’ sings Elpheba equably, as the persecution of a scapegoated minority – in this case the animals of Oz – begins.

Many birthdays later, in fact just last month, I saw the Stephen Sondheim memorial show Old Friends. The first half was a series of mini-musicals, including a section from his modern take on fairy stories Into the Woods. In ‘I Know Things Now’ Bernadette Peters as Red Riding Hood reflected on her experience of being lured off the path by the wolf and slipped down his throat to join her grandmother.

And I know things now, many valuable things, that I hadn’t know before

Do not put your faith in a cape and a hood

They will not protect you the way that they should

And take extra care with strangers

Even flowers have their dangers

And though scary is exciting

Nice is different than Good

The Innocent and the Predator – what better archetypes of our times? Both Sondheim and Schwartz pinpoint a defining quality of modern westerners, the gullibility that comes from wanting to appear ‘good’ while actually is only displaying the ‘niceness’ of social conformity.

There’s been a lot of wondering about the psychology of evil in the past few years. Do musicals have much to say about that? I find ‘My Friends’ from Sweeney Todd almost unbearable in its exquisite expression of pain and longing. The psychopathic barber who slashes the throats of his customers and turns their flesh into pies sings a love song to the knives that will become the murder weapons. You can hear his yearning for connection, a longing so distorted that it inverts the relationship with the Other.

The warmongering spirit is all too apparent in ‘Glory’ from Pippin. Tone, words and dissonant sound all combine to convey a lust for blood, a relish in destruction and a celebration of power that sounds Satanic. Great on stage … not so good in the outside world.

This is not to suggest that bad leaders are necessarily evil. ‘And the money kept rolling in’ from Evita captures the impetus of a corrupt system once set in train, with good intentions mixed in with a love of status and a sense of entitlement.

Then there’s the fighting back. I’d put off seeing Les Miserables for decades because I believed it would be dispiriting. In 2022 I finally saw it in Bristol and discovered that its effect was quite the opposite. I find it hard to put my finger on the magic of Les Mis, but it’s something to do with the way it combines two contrasting emotions – misery and determination – and sustains them through a long performance in a way that is truly cathartic. Courage and altruism survive the most gruelling treatment at the hands of others. I can’t choose a single song - they’re all different facets of a complex, very human, emotional whole. I came away with the feeling that the human spirit – unless de- or trans-humanised! – can survive anything. We are, it turns out, very special creatures.

And highly emotional ones. Experiencing deep, difficult feelings is part of the experience of being alive (pun on the Company song unintended). ‘Close every door’ from Joseph expresses the sense of exclusion some members of western societies recently experienced for the first time. Two winters ago, I hosted a regular online meeting for a small group of people suffering under vaccine mandate and passport regimes in various countries. The brave faces we all put on didn’t quite conceal the shock and hurt we felt at the way our respective societies were treating us. But the experience also took us, as exclusion did Joseph, to a place of inner resilience.

Sometimes people leave you

Halfway through the wood

Many people lost relationships due to their refusal to have the Covid products or their views about what was going on. ‘No One is Alone’ from Into the Woods speaks to the resulting sense of abandonment while offering a consoling perspective on going it alone.

I can’t speak for the other members of the group, but I can testify the emotional outcome of that experience was a sense of liberation. By the time the Portuguese government lifted the requirement, I no longer cared about going to restaurants and cultural institutions and had found new activities and people. Full membership of a papers-please society had little appeal and I’d acquired something of the exultant shrug of Elsa from Frozen in ‘Let it Go’: Let the storm rage on … the cold never bothered me anyway.

At times, grievous situations call for action. While I was preparing to leave Britain in late 2020, ‘Morning Glow’ from Pippin became my theme song. Its lyrics and pacing mimic the sense of possibility and expansiveness that comes when you realise you can change your reality.

So many steps need taking … so many plans need making

Hesitancy and thinking things through gives way to decisiveness and a sense of optimism:

I think I will … I think I will

While I’m still discovering musicals, the ones I’ve known all my life remain fresh. As with books, they change with the level of awareness you bring to them. The first few times I saw The Sound of Music I thought it was a nice story. Imagine my surprise when, on the umpteenth watch, my parents – who had experienced both sides of World War II – told me that in ‘So Long farewell’ the von Trapp family were not just singing a charming goodbye but fleeing the Nazis.

This was a much bigger shock than learning the truth about Father Christmas. But eventually I processed the information and grew up to write a PhD about the holocaust.

I’ll leave you with a surprise. Not from a musical, this is a new song by a very well-known singer-songwriter. She felt ‘called’, she said in an interview, to write it for the present times.

I think it could be the soundtrack for 2024.